My Laundry List

Beside my bed are two laundry baskets and another two-laundry bag full of clean laundry that I haven’t put away since washing them over a month ago. Mia likes to climb inside them in the mornings when I try to sleep in. She likes to pretend she’s taking a bath. Reminds me of when I used to climb into my parent’s closet and sit on top of their laundry basket filled with shoes. Laundry baskets are truly a children’s playground.

Next to the the clean laundry is another set of laundry baskets full of yarn, fabric, and other craft supplies along with other assorted piles of paperwork, books, and the occasional snack. I have to think really skinny thoughts to get into my closet and reach really far hoping I don’t fall on top of my piles and ruin my organized chaos.

I remember sharing a picture of the same side of my bed, just a different but familiar mess, a year ago. I was passionate to inform people what depression actually looked like. I'm still annoyed by the ad that inspired that post. I wish I could just tell adsense to just send me all the ads for yarn, fabric, and craft supplies, but that’s an issue for another day.

I’ve spent more time in bed this year than out of it. Being in bed means I have a love hate relationship with the objects that occupy the space around it. I love them for their constant presence, but I also hate them because they’re reminders that my body is weak. I use my energy to feed my kids in the morning, to change their diapers, to get them dressed, and after that my body protests and demands to lie down someplace where I won’t get jostled or jumped on.

My bed is so comfy. Warm blankets and my pillows that smell like my shampoo and Richard’s body wash. It’s safe. It’s my space. It's where I like to crochet and knit when I need me time. But I’ve had more than enough “me” time. While I don’t like the screaming or the jostling, I love that Mia, determined ninja that she is, scales my tall bed to tell me to get dressed in the mornings. It’s even sweeter when she climbs under the blankets to put her tiny popsicle toes against me, because she wants cuddles. More often than not, if either of my kids are frustrated with me, they often tell me to “go back a bed” or “go your room, mommy.” They associate me with my bedroom because lately, I’m rarely out of it.

Some days I think “I can totally be in the living room today. I can eat some breakfast like a normal human and be a decent parent for once.” I use up my energy to do the necessities (feed, change, and clothe the kids) and then I try to push through the discomfort of my guts feeling the weight of gravity. Then I try to beat back the nausea from my uncomfortable guts. And then I try to eat something and my body is like “abort! Abort! Abort!” while I tell it “we need energy, silly meat bag.”

My meat bag is very tired. My brain likes to also go into reflective mode when my body’s tired. I think about how gross I feel, and how I wish there was easier, cheaper options to test for food allergies than one insurance wont cover or a complete change of diet. I think about how grateful I am for doctors who do their best to treat my many ailments over the years with some preventative care. But I also have been told often “you’re so young to have this type of problem.” Considering the fact that several different doctors, across multiple specialties have told me this, my hypochondria is acting up again.

I’m educated enough to know there are risks with multiple tests. I’m educated enough to know that all the tests in the world won’t cure or solve everything. I’m educated enough to know that while modern medicine is incredible, there’s a lot of things doctors, scientists, and people just don’t know. When my bladder get’s another UTI, or my kidneys get an infection from the rouge UTI, I’m scared that my kidneys will fail like my dad’s did. When my guts act up, I just don’t want to eat anything for fear of living in the bathroom. And this is just the physical fears.

I feel like the laziest mom ever because my kids watch a lot of TV and I can barely interact with them. On days when I’m not curled up in a ball I regularly ask for hugs and kisses, of which only Corbin is usually interested. I feel like Richard carries me and all the primary parenting duties on his shoulders, which also makes me feel like the laziest wife ever.

I seek audio books and very talkative YouTube channels for some sense of human interaction, because when I spend all day in bed, I get very lonely. Richard is responsible and goes to work and then spends a lot of time with the kids, making them snacks and dinner, reading to them, helping them clean up their toys, and checking in on me every once in a while. He’s so tired by the end of the day that there’s some talking but not much, and I don’t want him to lose more sleep.

I try to knit or crochet or sew to beat away the boredom. I often try to get homework done when my brain has enough energy to do a lot of analysis. But often I’m playing games to do something that gives me a hint of feeling somewhat in control of my life- and kill digital spiders. They need to die.

            

            I am grateful for a very understanding husband. He went through a similar physical experience and his compassion makes me feel like I have a life raft to cling to in this whirlpool of suck.

I just wish I had the energy to put my laundry away.